Yes, it was going splendidly, the orc king thought.
At Gerti's bidding, Obould followed her down a short corridor. The orc took a moment to study the walls that had been widened by the giants, obviously, with new cuts in the stone clearly showing. The ceiling, too, was much more than a natural formation, with all the low points chipped out so that the tallest of Gerti's minions could walk the length of the corridor without stooping. Impressive work, Obould thought, especially given the efficiency and speed with which it had been accomplished. He hadn't realized that the giants were so good at shaping the stone quickly, a revelation that he figured might be useful if he did indeed crash the gates into Mithral Hall.
The chamber at the end of the hall was obviously Gerti's own, for it was blocked by a heavy wooden door and appointed with many thick and lush bearskins. Gerti pointedly kicked several aside, leaving a spot of bare stone floor, and indicated that to be Obould's seat.
The orc king didn't question or complain, and was smiling still when he melted down to sit cross-legged, drawing out his greatsword as he descended. Its impressive length would not allow him to sit in that position with it still on his back. He lay the blade across his crossed legs, in easy reach, but he relaxed back and kept his hands far from it, offering not the slightest bit of a threat.
Gerti watched his every move closely, he recognized, though she was trying to feign indifference as she moved to close the door. She strode across the room to the thickest pile of furs and demurely sat herself down, which still had her towering over the lower-seated and much smaller orc king.
"What do you want of me, Obould?" Gerti bluntly asked, her tone short and crisp, her eyes unblinking.
"We were angered, both of us, at the return of King Bruenor and the loss of a great opportunity," Obould replied.
"At the loss of frost giants."
"And orcs for me - more than a thousand of my kin, my own son among them."
"Are not worth a single of my kin to me," Gerti replied.
Obould accepted the insult quietly, reminding himself to think long-term and not jump up and slaughter the witch.
"The dwarves value their kin no less than do we, Dame Orelsdottr," he said. "They claim no victory here."
"Many escaped."
"To a hole that has become a prison. To tunnels that perhaps already reek with the stench of troll."
"If Donnia Soldou and Ad'non Kareese were not dead, perhaps we could better sort out information concerning Proffit and his wretches," said Gerti, referring to two of the four drow elves who had been serving as advisors and scouts to her and to Obould, both of whom had been found dead north of their current position.
"Do you lament their deaths?"
The question gave Gerti pause, and she even betrayed her surprise with a temporary lift of her evenly trimmed eyebrows.
"They were using us for their own enjoyment and nothing more, you know that of course," Obould remarked.
Again, Gerti cocked her eyebrow, but held it there longer.
"Surprised?" the orc king added.
"They are drow," Gerti said. "They serve only themselves and their own desires. Of course I knew. Only a fool would have ever suspected differently."
But you are surprised that I knew, Obould thought, but did not say.
"And if the other two die with Proffit in the south, then so much the better," said Gerti.
"After we are done with them," said Obould. "The remaining drow will prove important if we intend to break through the defenses of Mithral Hall."
"Break through the defenses?"
Obould could hardly miss the incredulity in her voice, or the obvious doubt.
"I would take the hall."
"Your orcs will be slaughtered by the thousands."
"Whatever price we must pay will be worth the gain," Obould said, and he had to work hard to keep the very real doubts out of his voice. "We must continue to press our enemies before they can organize and coordinate their attacks. We have them on their heels, and I do not mean to allow them firm footing. And I will have Bruenor Battlehammer's head, at long last."
"You will crawl over the bodies of orcs to get to him, then, but not the bodies of frost giants."
Obould accepted that with a nod, confident that if he managed to take the upper tunnels of Mithral Hall, Gerti would fall into line.